A perfect fit Valentine
by Clavyus
Summary: One shot. A spicy bit of Brucas fluff. Set on the storyline of "Perfect fit". This was a suggestion of Dianehermans


Just a spicy bit of Brucas fluff. Set in the story arch of "Perfect Fit". A suggestion of Dianehermans. As usual I own nothing associated with OTH.

A Perfect Fit Valentine date

"Miranda."

"Hi, Lucas. Is she expecting you?"

"Not really." I give her a long-stemmed white rose. "Happy Valentine's day."

She blushes. "Oh, thanks. To you too. You can go right in."

I open the door and she is sitting in her desk, frowning at a bunch of papers. She looks up and starts "Miranda..." Her eyes widen and she squeals in surprise as she sees me. "You're here!"

I offer a long-stemmed red rose to Brooke. "How could I miss it? Happy Valentine's day pretty girl."

Despite our long romantic history, this is the first Valentine's day we are together as a couple. She takes the rose, and gives me a coy look as she smells it. "Thank you, fiancee. I have a little something for you, but it will have to wait until later."

"Maybe a little taste?"

Without a word, she pushes me into one of the chairs in front of her desk. She pulls her skirt up and straddles me, grabbing my head with both hands, and darting her tongue deep into my mouth. I slide my hands under her skirt and hold her firm buttocks, squeezing as the kiss deepens. As always, we melt into one another, passion rising until we separate, and end up staring hungrily at each other.

She breaks the silence, straightening her clothes. "Just a taste." And a sweet smile. "When do you go back?"

"Tomorrow morning. I have to be there for the afternoon practice. Second game of the playoffs on Saturday." I look at her desk. "Can you call it a day?"

"Give me fifteen minutes."

After a couple of quick phone calls she turns to me "So, fiancee. What's the plan?"

"First, I have something for you." I give her a large shopping bag. Inside, a dress. Cheap material, bright yellow with small embroidered red flowers, a plunging neckline made to hug the torso and flare at the hips into a tiny loose skirt, barely covering the ass. Also, bright red satiny underpants, a little bigger than she usually uses, red half-cup strapless bra, three inch yellow wedges, matching the dress. Also, cheap ethnic jewelry, bangles, a pair gaudy painted wood earrings."

She examines the dress, tip of her tongue at the corner of her mouth, and a small smile. "This is the first dress you've ever bought me, love."

I'm a little insecure. A dress for New York's princess of fashion? But I thought I had to take a risk to make an impression. "A street market in East Harlem."

"I take it our night will involve dancing? Salsa?"

"A bachate club in the Village. Dinner on a taco truck nearby."

"I always say one must dress appropriately."

"So?" Pins and needles.

"Out of the park, fiancee. You have better sense of style than I give you credit for. And, although I'm sure you already know this, you're going to love how I look in this."

"Me and every other hetero male in the Village."

"That's right. You know I love the attention."

"And I love you loving the attention. Can you dance bachate?"

"You bet. Can you?"

"I've taken some lessons."

A big dimpled smile. "This is going to be fun."

We walk, hand in hand, from the CoB building to Brooke's building on Central Park East. It's a forty minute walk, and we avoid serious subjects, mostly walking down memory lane, playing a kind of lovers twenty questions.

"So, fiancee, an easy one. Best date?"

"Our first. That one is hard to beat. I can still taste our first kiss, the cheap beer, how soft your mouth was. Most embarrassing moment?"

"That's impossible, Luke. Getting walked on by Keith? By your mom? By Haley? Deb, the condoms and the whipped cream? Whitey and the back of your car? The janitor and blow job at the school closet?"

"It looks like we've stopped with embarrassing moments since high school. Well, there was that incident with the gendarme and the back of our car in Paris."

"And I thought the French were less uptight, hmpf. Best sex?"

"There is quite a bit of incredible sex to choose from, pretty girl. But I would have to go for a lazy Sunday afternoon at our College home, right after we got back together."

"That would be our best, most romantic lovemaking. Best sex would be a certain afternoon in Nassau. There was a moment there that I thought I was just going to explode."

I smile. "We were inspired that day."

"It was something in the food."

"Best meal?"

"Your mom's french toast, of course."

"Of course."

"Best kiss?"

"Hmm. Again, a lot of quality material to choose from. In the rain, after a storm and a blackout and a fight."

She is lost in memory. "I guess I have to agree with that one, although I'm very fond of the kiss after we got engaged. Worst sex?"

"I'd say in an airplane bathroom, coming back from Paris."

Brooke giggles. "That's right. That mile high club thing is not all that's cracked up to be. At the risk of inflating your ego, I'll add something. The worst sex we've had was better than the best sex I've had with anyone else."

That surprises me. "Really?"

"We are a perfect fit, Luke. I know you just have Peyton and Nikki to compare, but I've screwed dozens of guys. Of course, emotionally, there's no comparison. Sex with you is this amazing celebration. But even in the most physical sense, everyone else always left me a little unsatisfied."

"You taught me everything I know about pleasing a girl. It's no surprise I'm particularly good at pleasing you."

"True. But from the beginning, you've always been a very generous and attentive lover. And very soon, you became totally uninhibited and willing to experiment. In the end I learned a lot from you about how to please a boy."

I laugh. "You're certainly very good for this boy's ego..."

"Not that you need it."

"It's good to hear, pretty girl. You intimidate me a little. I look at you and I still feel a bit like the clever, lucky dork that somehow snagged the cheer captain."

"You know I have my own feelings of inadequacy where you are concerned. I'm the dumb, sexy cheerleader who somehow snagged this amazing intellectual and artist, and, at some level, I am always afraid you're going to end up bored with me."

"You're the dumb cheerleader who, by the age of twenty, built an international fashion empire and has established herself as a profound stylistic influence on the whole clothing industry. Don't sell yourself short, my love. Your art is different from mine, but you are a true master of it, with the added business sense to make yourself filthy rich while doing it."

She giggles. "Ok, ok. I'm pretty amazing, ain't I?"

"Sure."

"Well, my royal amazingness requires a serious kiss, before she walks another inch."

And a proper kiss requires something between ten seconds and two minutes. This one took close to two minutes, and caused quite a few annoyed or amused looks from the passerbys, plus a couple of muttered "get a room".

We get to the penthouse about a quarter to five. "Don't worry, fiancee. Motherzilla is out of the country. The world is our oyster. What time should we leave for our date?"

"Around eight?"

"I need about an hour to get ready. That leaves plenty of time. Let me first give you your Valentine day's gift." She picks a little package from her dresser and hands it to me, keeping a close eye in my reaction.

It's a small bottle of perfume named "Lucas, by Brooke Davis". I open it and smell. Velvety, spicy and slightly musky, with a faint citric undertone. "It's wonderful, Brooke. I love it."

"I personally created this scent for you. Of course, with help from the people in our cosmetics subsidiary. It's the very first fragrance for men we have developed and the preliminary marketing testing suggests huge commercial potential. Your choice. It's exclusively yours forever. Or we make a marketing campaign using our image. A black and white picture of the two of us, naked in each other's arms, in magazines and outdoors everywhere."

Hm. That adds up to an amazing sexy and romantic gift. On the other hand, we are going to get seriously teased. Nate and Hales will never let us hear the end of it. Well, I guess that just adds to the fun. I put a bit of it on my neck and chest. "Thank you, pretty girl. It's choice number two, no doubt about it. You have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy it."

Brooke shows a full dimpled smile. "Oh, I have some idea. I suspect I'm going to enjoy it just as much. Right now I want two things from you. A foot rub, and that you go down on me until I pass out."

"Your pleasure is my pleasure, oh goddess. Let me remove some of the excess clothing." I take off her shoes and pantyhose, her skirt, jacket and blouse. She lies down in our bed, lower legs hanging out. I start with the foot rub, massaging her arches, the muscles of the soles, the tendons in the front and back of each foot, her beautifully pedicured toes. Like her hands, her feet are small and elegantly shaped. I grab some baby oil we keep in a nightstand, and I begin to massage her lower legs, and Achilles tendons. By the time I'm done she is completely relaxed and moaning softly with pleasure..

Time for the next step. I bring her pelvis forward until it is at the edge of the bed, and sit between her legs, removing her panties. I open her folds with my fingers, and begin teasing her by softy blowing on the pink tissue inside. That drives her crazy, squirming and moaning. "Lucas, oh Lucas oooh..."

"Just hang in there, let me taste you now." I alternate slowly sliding my tongue over her nub and blowing on it. "Very sweet." I insert two fingers in her, one in each hole, using her own juices as lubricant. I begin to slide my fingers very slowly in and out as I continue to lick her nub, still slowly, but a little more insistently. I continue the slow work, until her moaning becomes more insistent. "Faster, Lucas, faster now.". I make my motion more vigorous, both with the fingers and my tongue, and in a minute or so, she comes noisily. She starts to pull away, but I remove my fingers and grab her firmly by the hips, lifting her pelvis a bit off the bed, her legs bent over my shoulder. "Oh no, pretty girl. You are going nowhere now." I begin to alternate nibbling her nub and vigorously licking it in circular patterns, and in a couple of minutes, she is coming again.

I turn her around, shapely ass up in the air, and whip out my erect member, ready to play inside her. As I begin to enter, she says. "No Lucas, the other hole today."

"Your wish, mylady." I use some baby oil to help lubricate, and hold her in position. "All right, my love. Relax, I'm going in." At first, it is uncomfortably tight, but soon she begins to relax and the motion becomes easier. "All the way, Lucas!" I go all the way in. "Oh my god, Luke! This feels so good!" I feel her hole pulsate strongly around me. I pull her up by the shoulders, and nibble at the back of her neck, as I caress one of her nipples with one hand, and her nub with the other. We continue the slow in-and-out motion together, In a minute, she comes loudly again, and she clenches her hole, squeezing me into dropping my load, for the first time in that particular place.

A few minutes later she is lying down in my chest, caressing me with the tips of her fingers. "That is one very sweet ass, pretty girl."

She giggles. "It was time to lose my virginity there. Call it my other Valentine's day gift."

I laugh too. "Exactly what I wanted for Valentine's day. It was my first time going that way too." .

"Impressive performance for such an inexperienced couple."

"Oh, we'll get better with practice."

"I definitely want you back there often. It felt good. A shower?"

"Let's lie down here for a few more minutes."

My favorite combination in the world these days is Brooke Davis and water. A wet Brooke is a happy Brooke, even on a bad day. On a good day, she gets giggly and playful, and then I get happy, giggly and playful. Together, we probably sound like a pair of five-year-olds. Of course, such showers tend to run long.

I put on my own ensemble for the night, slightly baggy tan slacks, a white button down shirt, to be used half-open, two-tone shoes and a thick gold necklace. With that and the three-day beard, I think I got the bad boy, pimpy look I was aiming for. I present myself to Brooke, who looks at me and tells me to sit for a second. She rummages through her cosmetics stuff and comes back with a tube with a clear gel. She puts some in her hand and works it into my hair. When I look in the mirror, I short hair looks spiky, and slightly wet.

"Thanks, that looks perfect."

"Just wait in the living room, Luke. Get a book or something. I have to do something about my hair."

To keep the romantic mood, I pick up an old Sparks novel and head to the living room to wait. It's about an hour before she comes out. She's done her hair in soft waves, fuller than usual, and pinned to one side. She worked a red flower above her ear on the pinned side. The dress looks even better than I pictured it. It hugs her torso, highlighting every curve. The top of her breasts are in evidence, and you can catch a glimpse of red from her bra in the low cut front. The dress barely covers her ass in a loose skirt just like those in her cheer outfits, and her long, well toned legs look good enough to eat. She puts her hands in her hips and does a slow grind. With every sway, you can catch glimpses of the red satin panties underneath. I've seen Brooke dressed provocatively before, but this definitely kicks it up a notch. She is also radiantly happy, which adds a spice all its own to the outfit.

"Well broody, what do you think?"

"Think?" I think I should have hired a couple of bodyguards for the night. Gay bodyguards.

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"Your carriage awaits you, goddess."

The limo drops us off a couple of blocks from the club, at a taco stand I've read great reviews about. The place is packed, so it takes us a few minutes to wrestle a couple of shrimp tacos and a beer each. We sit down on a park bench a block away.

"Wow, Luke. These are incredible!"

"Not your usual Valentine date dinner."

"It's perfect. You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

"You set a high bar with that first date of ours."

She smiles softly and teases me. "Ah, the competitive Scott trait."

"Just trying to show my appreciation, pretty girl."

"You show your appreciation very well, boy toy. I have a happy bit of discomfort in my southern parts that keeps reminding me of your fine appreciation."

I pull her in for a brief kiss. "You blow my mind, goddess."

She gives me her sly grin again. "I'm going to blow something else fiancee, before this night is over."

There is a huge line in front of the club, but my dear editor Lindsay knows everybody in this city. A few pulled strings, and we made it into the doorman's VIP list. Up until now, the unusual venue had kept us under the radar, but as we go in, a couple of paparazzi show up. Brooke makes a provocative pose, with my arm around her waist, which makes sure we'll probably be in tomorrow's tabloids. Free marketing, as both Brooke and Lindsay often say.

We are shown to a VIP section, where we sit on a tiny table overlooking the dance floor. A gorgeous latina in a skimpy dress brings us a couple of tequila shots, while flirting shamelessly with me. Brooke whispers in my ear. "These days, I actually like when pretty girls like that flirt with you. It's like a compliment on my good taste." There's a live band playing slow and very sensual classic bachata. We spend a few minutes watching the dance floor. There are some very good couples, but I don't think we will embarrass ourselves. Since I've known her, Brooke has always been an incredible dancer. I was pretty bad, but slowly she taught me to enjoy dancing, specially with her, and to loosen up enough to do it well. Besides I took half a dozen bachata lessons in the past few weeks, in preparation for our date.

We go down to the dance floor, and start slowly. Very close together, slowly swaying with my hand on the small of her back. Gradually, we warm it up, drawing apart a bit, so Brooke becomes a bit more fluid and provocative, and I move my hand from her back to her waist. The band starts a faster number, and we really begin to get into it, moving between close and open forms, and adding some salsa patterns, twirling Brooke around. We begin to get noticed, and a space forms around us, giving more space to do our thing. By the fourth song, there are only three couples left dancing, with a large crowd around us, cheering and clapping. By then we are lost in each other and the music, barely noticing what's going on around us. The next song is a fast, very intense one, and we lay it all out, open form, with Brooke at her most sensual, with me strugling a bit to keep up. Thankfully, the next song is a slow one, and we go back to a slow sway to catch our breaths. We are both sweating, with Brooke literally glowing with happiness. "Should we take a break, pretty girl?"

"If you will make out with me a bit, yes."

At the end of the song, we step ou of the dance floor, hand in hand. The singer actually looks at us and says "thank you.". Brooke and I turn around and lead a quick round of applause.

As we sit at our table, a trim middle aged gentleman comes with a couple of ice cold beers and shots on a tray. He serves us, pulls up a chair and sits.

"Please excuse me for the intrusion. My name is Carlos Suarez, and I am the owner of this club. You are Brooke Davis and Lucas Scott, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Suarez, it's a great place, congratulations."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Please, call me Carlos. You are very good dancers."

"Thanks, You can call us Lucas and Brooke."

"I would like to thank you for your patronage. You will be permanently added to our VIP list at the entrance. One of our PR people took a picture of the two of you on the dance floor which I would like to offer you with my compliments." It's a nice picture, showing Brooke and I in the middle of a one-hand motion, staring intensely at one another." I would ask your permission to add a copy of this picture to our VIP wall downstairs, with your autograph, if you wouldn't mind."

"No problem, Carlos." We sign the second copy of the picture with a silver marker.

"Lucas and Brooke, I will stop intruding now, but I would beg the senorita for a dance later tonight, if it wouldn't be too much bother."

That gets him a pleased dimpled smile from Brooke. "It will be a pleasure, Senor."

"Very well, please enjoy yourselves."

We take that last instruction to heart, with Brooke sitting on my lap, and doing her best to drive me crazy, squirming with intent, while sliding her tongue down my throat. After a serious make out session, we stop to watch the dance floor for a bit, and, as the band begins a new set, we go back to the dance floor.

This time we stay closer, just enjoying each other. After a few songs, Carlos comes to ask Brooke to dance. He is very good, smooth and elegant, leading Brooke into a very nice couple of sets. Soon a middle-aged latina approaches me to dance, giving me a fun lesson on the finer points of the bachata. When the set ends, we go back to our table, and the young server brings us a bottle of Crystal and two flutes. "Compliments of the house, senor and senora."

Of course, the third time we go to the dance floor, we are a little tipsy and a little giggly. The quality of the dancing suffers a bit, but not our enjoyment. Brooke, having a better head for the stuff than I do, eventually gives up on the dancing and drags me outside, so that the cold night air can help clear our heads.

"What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"Ten, out of La Guardia. I should leave around eight."

"It's close to one in the morning, fiancee. We should probably call it a night."

We call for our limo, and in half an hour, we are back at the penthouse. We go back to our bedroom, hand in hand. Our heads have cleared up a bit, and what is left from the night is not so much desire, but tenderness. We kiss, slowly and I ask Brooke. "Make love to me, pretty girl. Pretend there is no tomorrow."

We undress and lie in bed, Brooke on top of me, as we kiss and caress each other. She straddles me, taking me deep inside herself. She moves her hips, in a slow, fluid back and forth motion, her hands on my chest, and my hands on her thighs. Eye on eye, we keep whispering to each other. "I love you", "I love you", "I love you",... After a long time, her eyes unfocus and I see her pleasure coming from deep within, slow waves of it. "Oh Lucas, oh Lucas..." I soon come as well, slow and as intensely as I can remember.

I wake up with a pair of amber eyes looking into mine, a small sweet smile, and fingers doing a slow caress on my side. "Good morning, sweet fiancee. It's a bit late, but I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Shit, pretty girl, what time is it?"

"A quarter past ten."

"Damn! There is no way I'm getting there in time for practice."

"I'm a millionaire, fiancee. I wanted you to sleep a bit more, and I can afford it, ok?"

"All right, explain."

"There is a helipad at the top of the hotel a block away. In one hour, a helicopter will arrive to pick you up and deliver you to the private aviation terminal in La Guardia, where a private jet will take you to Charlotte. You will be there before one. Will that do?"

"I look at her as if she had just arrived from Mars. I suppose I'll have to get used to this. "Thank you, pretty girl."

"It's nothing, fiancee." Suddenly, there is moisture in her eyes. "Do you have any idea what last night meant to me? The absolutely perfect Valentine date, for a girl who never had a Valentine date? Every time I think I cannot possibly love you more, you find a way to take us even further."

I give a small, soft kiss. "It was an amazing night. But it wasn't just my doing. I created the opportunity, but it is your incredible joie de vivre, your joy for life, that made the night amazing."

A nice dimpled smile. The minx knows exactly how amazing she is. "A quick shower, and breakfast?"

"Sure."

THE END


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